The Perfect Position
by Cherielynn
Summary: Sherlock needs John's help with an unusual experiment to help him solve a case. First time. First kiss. Sexy shenanigans.


John positioned himself on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn. Lazy Sunday evenings spent in front of the telly were the ones he enjoyed the most at 221b. Sherlock had been gone all day. He was nowhere about this evening and that suited John just fine. He could lounge around in an old grey t-shirt and sweats. He didn't have to be at the clinic until late tomorrow morning. So, if he wanted to, he could fall asleep watching an endless parade of nothing.

He heaved a sigh as he let his spine curve into the well worn leather and settled in for the evening. After watching twenty minutes of a period drama about a nun, a solider and a precocious little girl who seemed to have mind reading abilities, John heard the front door slam open and the unmistakable footsteps of the world's only consulting detective march up the stairs.

John blew out a breath and settled even further into the couch. Perhaps this would be one of those evenings where Sherlock would flounce into his bedroom, slam the door shut, and not come out again until the wee hours of the morning to conduct some experiment or other. John got the distinct impression Sherlock was in a "mood." They'd only been flat mates about a year and John was still learning all the different stroppy versions of "Sherlock Holmes."

There were moments during their tenuous first year together when John had to use his calming exercises so he wouldn't punch the man. He wasn't sure if Sherlock had meant all the times he'd called him an idiot, and berated him for his complete lack of observational skills, but he often wondered. Yet, there were also the rare times when the detective had looked at him in wide-eyed wonder and smiled that secret little half smile at him. John couldn't help but puff up when he'd provided the perfect detail that helped the detective solve the case. He had no doubt the that genius would have arrived at the solution himself, but perhaps he got there a bit quicker whit John's help. The doctor liked to think so.

He found himself becoming rather fond of Sherlock. Perhaps too fond? No, he shook his head. Sherlock made it clear on his first day together he wasn't looking for any romantic entanglements. John would have to continue channeling his misguided, romantic interests somewhere else. Shame really, he spent a number nights fantasizing about Sherlock slipping into his room and into his bed… Best to tuck those thoughts away.

Unfortunately for John's plans, Sherlock entered through the door of the sitting room and flung himself into his arm chair. John tried his best to continue watching his program despite Sherlock's intense gaze in his direction.

"It's not polite to stare, Sherlock," John said, popping a few pieces of buttered popcorn into his mouth. Sherlock's eyes followed his hand and lingered on John's mouth. The detective had a bee in his bonnet about something so John decided to ignore him. He took a drink of ice water and tried to focus on the program. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sherlock adopt his "thinking pose," hands steepled under his chin, and felt his stomach drop.

"What?" John asked trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"The girl is a ghost, the nun is her mother who gave her up for adoption years before and the solider…"

"What have I told you about spoiling plots, Sherlock?" John yelled and threw a handful of popcorn at the man. It dribbled down his impeccable shirt front and fell on the floor. He sighed, he'd probably have to clean that up later.

"It's obvious, John. The BBC has let their standards slip if they consider this worth watching. Anyone with a brain would know the entire plot in the first five minutes," Sherlock huffed still tracking John.

"Well, I didn't know it," John sighed and picked up the remote to shut the TV off. "That's that." John glared at the annoying git and continued to shovel popcorn into his mouth. He was stress eating now.

"Hungry?" Sherlock asked, still staring.

"Yes," John replied still popping the kernels into his mouth. "Pass the cheese," John demanded and pointed to shaker of white cheddar cheese topping on the coffee table. Perhaps doing such a mundane action would jolt Sherlock out of this ridiculous staring snit he seemed to be in. He didn't budge so John got it himself while Sherlock's gaze kept steady.

"It's inconceivable, John. How did he do it?"

"How did who do what?" John asked.

"He hid the weapon on him. He passed through an extensive security search and they couldn't find a thing. The weapon was on him, John… He murdered his business associate with it and then hid it back on his body. It's a perfect locked room mystery. The question is, how?"

"They did a cavity search too?"

"Yes, afterward. NSY allowed me to be present for the search. I know he had the weapon on him before the murder. I also think he hid it back on his body afterward. I just don't know how. We never found it and without it, there is no conviction."

"It's a stumper. I hope you figure it out," John said thumbing through newspaper TV listings to see if anything else might catch his eye for the evening. But deep down, he knew the quiet Sunday evening would never take place.

"What if I told you I need your help with an important case?" Sherlock finally spoke.

"Yeah?" John asked "I guess you planned that out well, then?" He could feel his calm reserves draining away as they usually did when Sherlock manipulated him.

"A man's life depends on getting the results of this experiment."

"Really," John asked in spite of his anger. "Is he going to strike again?"

"Yes, his next target will be his wife. The business associate was having an affair with her and together they'd managed to embezzle a great deal of money from him. I believe this murder is a form of revenge, I just can't prove it," Sherlock answered striking his fist on the coffee table in front of him.

John sat up a bit straighter, intrigued despite his annoyance at an evening interrupted. "Will helping you involve drugs?"

"Nope," Sherlock said still keeping his steely gaze right on John.

"No harsh chemicals, no acid, no…"

"Nothing haaarmful, John," Sherlock said drawing out the word. But, he said it in a manner that spun a thousand alternate synonyms in John's brain. The words irritating, painful, uncomfortable, undignified all came bursting into his brain. He knew Sherlock too well by now to think he wouldn't say one thing and mean something altogether different.

"On your feet, John. This will be invaluable data," Sherlock said rising from his chair. He used a tone that brooked no argument and John found himself responding automatically to its authority.

Sherlock reached over and gently pried the bowl of popcorn from John's grip. "And you do know what they put in that cheese topping don't you? There are more toxins in that shaker than anything I've ever given you." Sherlock said gliding one large hand under John's right elbow to help him up.

He then scooted the coffee table out of the way and pulled John into the middle of the sitting room.

"Thank you for this. Now, stand still with your arms up over your head," Sherlock said getting down to business. "I'm going to run my hands over you in a specific way. I'm checking for places under a person's skin where certain items might hide. May I?" Sherlock asked.

"You think I've got places on me where I could hide a weapon?" John began trying to stall a bit. The thought of Sherlock running his hands over him gave him a surprising jolt in his belly.

"The suspect is about your height, your approximate weight and build. According to the stab wounds, he hid a dagger almost six inches long on his body somewhere. May I proceed?" Sherlock asked from behind John's right shoulder. His voice had deepened and felt like it came from just a few inches away from his ear.

John jumped a bit and said, "No pain, okay. Warn me if you're going to do anything….drastic." He stood as Sherlock directed with his arms over his head.

"Of course, John," Sherlock said now even closer to his left side. It made him shudder a bit as the deep reverberations tickled the sensitive hairs in his ear canal. "Now, take off your shirt."

John pulled the worn t-shirt over his head and stood with his arms raised in the middle of the sitting room and waited. Without warning, John felt both of Sherlock's long fingered hands touch him on either side of his ribcage. Okay, so far neutral territory. Then, the hands moved upward stopping just under his arm pits.

"Hmmmm," Sherlock said.

"What?" John asked wondering exactly what information Sherlock could get from this. He'd half turned around to see what Sherlock might do next when he felt a hand on his shoulder stopping him.

"Don't turn around, and don't speak! It's important that you remain still and quiet, John. I'm concentrating." Sherlock growled at him.

"Okay, okay," John said furrowing his brows at the brusqueness of the request. He faced forward again and sighed in resignation. Sherlock's present attitude brooked no backtalk. The sooner John complied, the sooner he'd get back to a quiet night of telly.

"Now, I need to begin again," Sherlock's voice rumbled from just behind his neck. He felt wide palms and those impossibly long fingers spread wide, touching him from the middle of his ribs and up into his arm pits. Sherlock's movements were slow, and John wondered if the man were cataloging all this into his mind palace.

"I'm going to go up your arms. Be still."

John felt warm hands move over his armpits and curl around his biceps. As Sherlock's hands moved up his arms, they slowed down and massaged his muscles. It felt nice having his arms rubbed in this way and that thought sent a small current of desire right through his belly and further south. Nothing stirring yet, but if Sherlock kept this up…"

Sherlock moved his hands up John's arms until he reached his hands. Since he was a head taller, he could grip John's wrists firmly. The sensation of restraint did something to John's guts and the small twinge of pleasure surged into a much stronger one. He tried to move out of Sherlock's grip but found he couldn't. John wriggled and grunted in dissent.

"Shhhh! It's important to stay quiet and let me feel you.

Oh, thought John, interesting choice of words. After a moment Sherlock let go of John's wrists and moved his hands back down John's arms to his rib cage.

"You can put your arms down. Let them hang loose and relax. "I'm going to put my hands on your chest now, John. I need to feel how the muscles lie under the skin. Okay?"

Still afraid to speak, John nodded his consent.

Sherlock reached around to run his hands across the front of John's chest. He brushed over his nipples enough times to raise them into two hard pebbles. John couldn't help a little gasp of pleasure at the last pass and blushed. Sherlock paused a moment and chuckled low. "You seem a bit sensitive there. I'll try to be gentler." But the feather light touches only made the pleasurable sensations worse.

Sherlock used the pads of his fingers to feel each muscle of his chest and the sensation was not unlike getting a deep tissue massage.

"The suspect's muscles looked like he worked out. A bit like yours here, but he had pronounced deltoids and pectorals. Perhaps they were fake…" Sherlock mumbled as his fingertips probed their way up and down his front.

God that felt amazing, John thought. Did the man know how much this turned him on? Could he know? Most likely he was so deep into his own whirring brain he had no idea the conflicting waves of pleasure coursing through him as the investigation continued.

It couldn't be, John wondered. Was Sherlock teasing him? It took all his self-control to remain still while Sherlock finished examining his chest. "Now this side," he said and John felt dexterous fingers massaging his shoulders and back.

Then, Sherlock moved up to his neck. "This may be a bit unsettling,' Sherlock said "but I'm not going to put any pressure here, John. Trust me."

He felt strong fingers wrap around his throat. "Lift your head…ah there. Sherlock sighed a little as John's chin moved up allowing him access to the entire length of his neck. He felt Sherlock's thumbs on the back of his neck and fingers ghosted over his Adam's apple. John swallowed thickly. His self-defenses kicked in, and he fought down the strong urge to elbow Sherlock in the gut.

"I can feel your tension, John. Relax, I'm testing a theory. I won't apply pressure. I need this data. The man had a slight double chin. Perhaps he hid the weapon there under a prosthetic?" He now had John in a light strangle hold. As promised, he never applied any direct pressure. Yet, the touch made the electric jolts moving into his belly and groin sizzle harder. For the briefest of moments, Sherlock squeezed and an involuntary gasp left him.

"Sorry," Sherlock said. "Moving on."

John let out a held breath. The hands moved into his scalp. Sherlock arched his fingers so the tips raked through John's short, blond hair.

Now this was more like it. John hadn't had a head massage like this in years. Not since his mother would do this for him when he had trouble sleeping as a kid. He'd forgotten how amazing it was to let someone run their fingers through his hair.

"Shhhh, remember to be quiet, John," Sherlock's voice rumbled near his ear.

The reminder made him come back to himself. He'd been humming in pleasure. He hadn't realized it until Sherlock brought it to his attention. He stopped with another furious blush. He'd have to have better control over himself if this were to go on much longer. He was half hard and well on his way to a full erection.

Sherlock continued to massage his head, and John could feel his neck loosen. Sherlock stood so close behind him now, that he could feel the back of his head brush up against the detective's chest. If he took a small step back, he could press his ass right into Sherlock's groin. What might he find there?

"All right, John. I've got some possibilities for upper body. Now, I'm going to need data from your lower half. I need to know how squeamish you are about… About your…"

"You want to touch my more intimate areas?" John asked still holding his gaze forward.

"They do hold the most potential for concealment," Sherlock said bringing his mouth back to John's ear and making him shudder again. The man had the most seductive voice. "But, I'll save that bit for last in case you don't want to proceed."

John wondered what "in case you don't want to proceed" meant. Then, he felt Sherlock's hands back at their starting position on his ribcage. "Just relax again, John." His hands moved downward along the side of his hips and over the sweats. He ran his hands down to one of John's ankles but this time he did it quickly letting out a little huff as he did so.

"John," he said. "You're going to have to remove your bottoms.

Both of John's eyebrows shot up. "Bottoms, as in pants too?" he asked trying not to let the panic in his chest flow out into his voice.

"Problem?"

"Uh…I'm a little." He didn't know how to say it.

"Hard? I assumed so. I have been stimulating you."

"Sherlock," John began warningly. He tried to turn again to face his friend. He felt he should be face to face for this discussion. But Sherlock put his hand on his shoulder and kept him facing forward.

"It's perfectly natural. I've seen naked before, you know," Sherlock said. "Just drop them down and kick them off. I can't get an accurate picture of where he could hide a weapon of that size unless I can observe and touch the places he might use."

John swallowed again. This whole situation felt unreal, like something he'd imagined in his bedroom, hand on his cock, wishing Sherlock would take the first step. Perhaps this was it. Leave it to Sherlock to put the moves on him in this fashion. But, what if was just an experiment, a collection of data? Was he or wasn't he?

Sherlock once again placed his hands on John's ribcage and began to move them down across his abdomen. He skirted around the ginger curls of his pubic hair and pulled them across his hips. John had a bit of softness in his lower belly nowadays and he felt a bit self-conscious about it. He tried holding it in a little and Sherlock gave a warning tut. "Just relax. Don't tense up."

John let the little pooch fall back out and sucked in a soft little gasp when he felt both of Sherlock's hands slide across his bare ass. The hands began at the top of his rounded cheeks and slid down. The detective's pinky fingers ghosted along the cleft and he let out a soft moan when they brushed just above his hole. His cock bobbed obscenely in front him leaking precome shamelessly.

"Sensitive there too," Sherlock said kneading each cheek separately a moment before he slid his hands down the back of John's thighs.

John heard a rustle of expensive fabric as Sherlock knelt down on one knee. He reached around to the front of his thighs and massaged them as well. The sensations of pleasure kept building with each new area Sherlock touched.

Next, Sherlock pulled his hands down to feel around his knees. John had always been sensitive about his knees and he wanted to wiggle away.

Sherlock noticed his reaction and said, "Not much room in knees, ankles, elbows or wrists to hide anything." He lifted each of John's feet up and ran a hand along the soles of his feet. Thankfully, he wasn't ticklish there. "Might be false bottoms here," Sherlock said running one finger from the tip of his big toe, along the arch of his foot to the heel. He repeated the movement on the other foot lingering a bit overlong in the second arch.

John closed his eyes. That was definitely a caress. John wanted to reach down and pull the man up into a deep kiss, but he still didn't dare. If this was Sherlock's attempt at a seduction, then he'd let him continue. The only part that hadn't been fully explored now was his cock. Sherlock had saved the best for last it seemed, and whether or not John had wanted it to begin with, he was bursting for Sherlock to touch him.

"All right, now for the sensitive bits. You can decline this part if you prefer,"

Sherlock said looking up at him. John noticed that Sherlock's full lips were only inches away from his leaking cock and he had to close his eyes against the vision.

John didn't trust his voice at all so he simply nodded again.

"I need to hear it, John," Sherlock commanded.

"S'alright," he managed and nodded again. There would be no turning back from this point.

Consent given, Sherlock began immediately. He placed his hand around John's extended cock and held it there a moment letting John get used to his touch.

" I'm beginning to suspect something about the suspect's hiding place," he said opening his hand and tracing one finger gently up the sensitive vein on the underside of John's engorged cock.

John let out a soft strangled cry of pleasure. Sherlock leaned his face into John's hip holding him in place with one arm around the other. He used his finger to trace around the sensitive head and along the top of the shaft.

"You see the wife was having an affair with the business partner because the husband could no longer perform sexually. In fact, he'd been in a serious car crash a few years before that left him impotent. I believe, he may have lost the use of one sexual organ in particular."

No question about it, Sherlock knew exactly what he was doing to John. He used the copious precome to coat the head of John's cock and began working his fist up and down, squeezing tighter and twisting just right until he had John panting. The sensations dizzied him, blood rushed downward filling his cock to bursting. He didn't think he'd ever been this hard in his life. Sherlock, his gloriously beautiful flat mate, was giving him the best hand job he'd ever had. Minutes ago he'd been glued to the couch in a stupor, and now…now…his brain stopped working and he allowed himself to fall into the sensation of chasing an orgasm at the hands of Sherlock Holmes.

"Can't forget these," Sherlock said, reaching his free hand to massage John's scrotum. The doctor moaned so loud he surprised himself. Surely the people walking by outside could hear him and that only made the whole thing hotter.

"Sherlock, I'm going to.." John gasped out.

But Sherlock apparently could grant John unequalled sexual pleasure and solve a crime at the same time because he seemed to have an epiphany just as John ejaculated all over the sitting room floor. "I've solved it!" he cried and stood up to wrap his arms around his blogger in warm bear hug from behind. "Once again, you show me the way, Dr. Watson."

"Sherlock," John gasped a bit beyond any further articulation at the moment. But Sherlock shushed him again, and turned him around. He embraced him not minding the leaking mess clinging to his belly. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's shoulders and leaned into the hug. "That was amazing!" he finally whispered.

"Yes it was," Sherlock said. "I've wanted you for so long, John. I just didn't know how to tell you. I thought I'd show you instead." Then, Sherlock reached under John's chin and pulled his mouth into a long, sweet kiss.

When they broke apart, John laughed into Sherlock's shoulder. The man was still fully clothed. Leave it to the detective to give him their first kiss after giving him a mind blowing orgasm. "Was there even a case?"

"Oh yes, and your help was invaluable. The man had a detachable cock, John. It occurred to me during your tumescent state that the average man's length could hide a six-inch blade if it were hollow inside. He'd gone through all the trouble of having a prosthetic penis made in order to pleasure his wife, and she still left him for another man. NSY never thought of looking inside the man's member in their search, but if they had, I'm sure they would have found a perfect spot to hide the murder weapon.

John looked at his mad genius and bit his bottom lip. "You're amazing! And, now that you've memorized every inch of me, I'd like to get a sample of some of you." He palmed Sherlock's hard length through his trousers. "I think it's only fair you take off your clothes and allow me to verify your theory."


End file.
